


A Siren's Sorrow

by vintage_grace



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-06-02 23:35:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19451809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vintage_grace/pseuds/vintage_grace
Summary: Elinor Carter always thought life was complicated throughout. She never anticipated that her complicated relationship with her father would change everything. Because in one of his desperate attempts to reform her 'wild ways,' he exposes her to a much worse fate-to be forever doomed to be a monster.The real trouble begins when she meets a certain brown-eyed boy. Because after nearly a century of cleansing dark souls, no voice, and a trail of pain, Peter Parker might just be the one to give her the Hope she needs to be whole again. Except, she has no idea if she wants to take that risk. If she's wrong, then her and Peter will have to endure the same pain she's felt all these years, but if she's right, everything will change.Can Peter be the one to restore her humanity? Or will it all end in tragedy?





	1. Chapter 1

_1920s — New York City_

The whole city bustles and buzzes with life just outside my window. The bright lights like stars against the hazy night sky. It brings a smile to my face at the thought of what awaits me just a few streets away. My senses itch for the cool feeling of the microphone beneath my fingers, the smell of smoke and alcohol lingering in the air, the tapping of shoes and piano keys as people dance to the jazz music inside the dim little club.

I let out a sigh of content at the mere memory of it. Well, the club and a certain jazz player. The one with the sly smile, gentle touch, and those brown eyes that hold more than the galaxies ever could. My thoughts linger on him and possibilities for tonight's events as I slip my feather band over my head and fiddle with the fringe of my dress.

Pops doesn't approve of my lifestyle, but it's the only thing I've got to myself these days. Between his rising fame and every one clamoring to invite his daughter to their social events merely for bragging rights, I was feeling more lost than ever before I found my love for jazz, which led to me to find love in so much more.

My knuckles tap out this weeks pattern on the thick mahogany door of what seems like to be an ordinary house downtown. But those that can get inside know it's anything but. Inside and down the stairs lies one of my favorite places, The Starlight, New York City's most hopping—and illegal—jazz club and gin joint. Or as I think of it—my second home.

I tug my jacket closer to my body as another chilly breeze passes by. My heel taps against the doorstep as I impatiently wait for someone to let me in. "Sorry about the wait, Birdy. It's busy tonight." Oliver greets as he opens the door with a wide smile.

"No need to worry, Ollie, dear. I'm just gonna go warm up before my set." I tell him with a grin and hand him my jacket before slipping into a side room. Ollie always keeps the place nice so that if anyone is suspicious, it still looks like someone lives here. All it would take is a peek in the window to see a roaring fire and a couple people having casual conversation.

"We go on in five." A warm, familiar voice whispers as arms wrap around my waist, and lips press a feather light kiss to my temple. "You ready, Birdy?"

I turn around and rest my palms against his chest. "Aren't I always, Tommy boy?" His brown eyes crinkle at the corners. Those bright eyes that seem to hold galaxies and more meet mine and send my heart fluttering. My fingers instinctively reach up to brush back the fallen strand of his blond hair.

There's a feeling of uncontainable happiness that flows through me, and I swear even without a drop of gin, I'm already halfway to drunk by the giddy feeling that comes with freedom. It's a stark contrast to the usual restriction of my daytime life.

The rules of society and social life and being a lady. Everyone clamoring for me to attend their parties, whether it be because of my father's name or my natural wit and attitude. It's the life of constant nagging from my father or one of his driver's hovering over my shoulder to report to him later on all my actions.

But here—in the underground night life of our decade, with the jazz music and cigarette smoke drifting through the air, and my love, Tommy, next to me, I'm free.

Tommy's fingers link with mine as we follow the small trail of people down to the basement. I breathe in a sigh of relief as we weave through the crowds of flapper girls and their beaus as they dance and drink the illegal booze this place pumps.

"Come on, Birdy. Time to share your song." He whispers as we linger in the wings. Theta's, my best friend, is just finishing up her number with the usual flourish she always brings. When she finishes, I step up on the platform and offer her a tight hug, before taking the microphone.

I relish the feeling of the cold metal against my fingertips. My hips gently sway to the time of Tommy's piano playing. Our eyes meet for a second, and we get lost in our own little world as we fall into the comfort of the club and jazz.

Everyone stops for a second at the immediate sound of my voice, which still brings a smile to my face every night. Girls smack their beaus to keep them from standing there slack-jawed and drooling and force them to keep dancing. It's only a moment before the immediate awe wears off, and the entire place is the hopping.

I'm lost in the beauty of it all. It's what our folks don't seem to get—why we do this. There's a sliver of rebellion, that much they have partly correct, but they can't seem to understand how this is it for us. Down here, we can be ourselves, forget our troubles, rules and regulations, and just be free.

For me, the nights in the Starlight help me breathe. They remind me there's more to life than perfect etiquette and social rules. I can be Elinor—the girl with the beautiful voice. People don't look at me with pity or disdain. They don't see the reflection of my mother or watch with rapt attention to see if I'll snap too—if I'll leave just like her.

No, down here, I'm Elinor—singer, flapper, beauty, and lover. I'm entirely _me_.

I catch a glance of Tommy as he continues to play the piano and shoot him a wink. It makes his lips curl up into that devilish grin I love so much, and I can't wipe the smile from my crimson lips through the rest of the set. Because this—this is my happiness.

The night went by in a blur of smile, laughs, and stolen glances between our show. I swear, he never looks more handsome than when he's playing the piano or watching me sing.

Although, I think he looks handsome all the time. Even like right now as he takes me back to my building, cigarette hanging from his lips, and hair gently falling in his face.

"Are you sure we can't just stay out forever?" I lean against his shoulder and close my eyes to enjoy the moment while it lasts. "Just stay out forever and forget about how our parents want nothing more than to marry us off to perfect little Gibson girl's and Arrow Collar Men. We could just stay like this—together."

"That sure sound nice, Birdy, but we both know that it wouldn't work out." His fingers trace circles over the fringe on my hip, and his lips press a feather light kiss to my temple. "Not just yet. I promise you one day."

"I like the sound of that promise." I tell him and press my hands on his chest. Maybe it's the alcohol still buzzing in my system, or maybe I'm just too giddy at Tommy's promise of forever. Because I ignore every ounce of reason as my fingers wrap around his lapels and tug him down to my level.

Our noses brush together, my dark and his light brown eyes stare into each other, and lips just centimeters apart, "I love you, Thomas Parker."

"I love you too, Elinor Carter, my precious little songbird." His words make my heart flutter like a hummingbird's wings. I lean in to close the distance between us. It's not our first kiss, but nothing has felt like this before.

My head spins at the kiss. I wonder if it's the effects of the alcohol doing it or if I'm merely drunk on him. There's the lingering taste of gin and cigarettes on his lips alongside the peppermint gum he always busy for a nickel. His calloused fingertips brush against my arms, and my hands rest on the back of his neck.

We part with heavy breaths and goofy smiles. "I should probably head inside before my Pops blows a gasket."

His thumb traces across my cheekbone as he presses a delicate kiss to my forehead. "Goodnight, Birdy. I'll call you tomorrow."

I manage enough will to untangle let him go and take one last glance behind me as my heels click against the pavement. There's a smile that has permanently plastered itself across my face as I enter the lobby and make it back up to the penthouse, just in time for my curfew.

Unfortunately, Poppa is waiting in his chair with a sour look on his face. "Elinor, I'm glad to see you still know how to make curfew on time."

"I told you I'd be back in time." I tell him as I gently walk through the living room. "Everything alright?"

"No, sweetheart, it's not." He lets out a sigh. "I need you to be honest with me about something. Please, sit down." I do as he asks and slip down into the plush cushions of our couch. His hazel eyes bore into me as he twirls his glasses. "Where have you been going out at night?"

One thing I've learned over the many years with my father, and more recently in the months since Ma left, is how to read Pops and know when I'm cornered. It's the only reason he would be acting like this—because he knows.

"I've been going out with friends—to parties." I bite my lip and wait for the backlash of it all. "I sing, Pops, and people like hearing my voice."

"They have every right to; you have a beautiful voice, Elinor. Just like your mother." He pauses and pursues his lips. "Anyone in particular you've been spending time with?"

My heart drops in my chest. He knows—he knows about Tommy and I. "Look, I didn't want you find out like this, but I—"

"I don't want you seeing him anymore. Is that understood?"

"Pops, please, don't do this. You don't understand what he means to me."

My father's whole demeanor changes. Body goes rigid, eyes turn cold, and his knuckles become white. "Elinor Ada Carter, I have told you time and time again you are forbidden from seeing Thomas Parker and going to those jazz clubs or so help me you will never leave this house again."

Something in me just snaps. After so many nights of sitting in this exact same position and hearing him voice the exact same fears, something just breaks inside me. Because this is in no way about me. It's about Ma. It's _always_ about her.

"No." I whisper through grit teeth. "No, I'm still gonna go out, and you can't stop me unless you _really_ want me to live up to your expectations. I love you, Poppa, but there's no stopping me. We both know I'm twice as stubborn as you, which means I'll get my way."

I soften and unclench my hands with a sigh. "Please, Poppa, I need you to understand. I'm almost seventeen, and you can't treat me like a child forever. You have to let me grow up eventually." Tears are building in his eyes too. "I love you, Poppa."

"I love you too, Elinor." He pauses and sets his glasses down with a sigh. "Perhaps this is a discussion we should finish in the morning. It's been a long day, and we both need rest."

I nod, despite the sinking feeling in my gut. Maybe I'm being paranoid, but my stomach churns with nerves like never before. Each click of my heels against the floor echoes like a gunshot in my ears. All piling together into this vast feeling of terror and _wrong_.

Even my silky pajamas or the picture I keep hidden away of Tommy and I brings me no comfort. I lay awake all night listening to my father's mutters from the other room. Each word slips away in an indecipherable mumble that only makes me feel increasingly nervous.

Poppa used to be the man that never mutters. He's always been the kind of man who spoke his mind, a trait I picked up from him since I never seemed to know when to hold my tongue. So hearing him like this is almost disturbing, even if it's not the first time.

It happens almost every night we have an argument or one of his grand plans to keep me contained doesn't go right. He mumbles all night. I lay awake in distress until it all somehow fades to background noise or the sun rises.

This just feels different somehow. He's been more anxious, jumpy, and angry. I swear I can't even mention my birthday without him jumping the gun on me.

Although, I suppose that might just be because it's so close to the anniversary of when Ma said she was going to visit my Aunt and never came back. The memory of her brings tears to my eyes, because as much as I despise what she did, I miss her just as much as Poppa.

We never talk about it though, which left me all alone in my grief. Until I met Tommy in the Starlight one lucky night, and he made everything bright again, which is only half the reason I love him.

And despite Poppa's disapproval, I know I would do anything to be with him, even if it meant repeating my Ma's actions.


	2. Chapter 2

"Birdy!" Theta calls from the other side of store's section, successfully making the associate helping her practically leap in surprise. I press my hand over my mouth to suppress a chuckle at the multitude of glares she's drawing. Still, Theta doesn't seem to notice as she bounds over to me and place a cloche on my head. "Just as I thought, it's perfect. You have to get it."

I glance at myself in the small mirror and smile when I notice why she's so adamant about this hat. Right on the side where the side of the hat is tucked upwards, it's secured with a decorative gem and peacock feather that stand out against the rich black of the fabric. "Well, it's better than one of the ones with the giant bows you keep trying to force on me." I tease as I admire my reflection.

"Come on, doll." She glances over her shoulder at my babysitter for the day before dropping her voice to a whisper. "We both know you don't need to be claiming single these days. No bow for you since you got a beau."

We both burst into a fit of giggles at the atrocious joke. "Theta Anders, you are completely ridiculous sometimes." She just rolls her eyes at me and waits for my answer. "I'm still getting it though."

Her cheers follow me as I make my way over to the counter and purchase my items. All the while, I take my dear sweet time to delay the inevitable comment from Jimmy—or James, as he forcefully corrects me—about going back and being locked away in the apartment for the rest of the day.

Luckily, I have a plan like I usually do.

"Miss Carter, it's time to leave." Jimmy reminds me as he hovers over my shoulder while I double check my bags. "Your father wants you home before three o' clock." 

"Actually, there was a change of plans." I lie casually. My heels click against the floor, and James shuffles to keep up with me. "There are a few things I'd like to give Poppa in person. So we need to swing by the office before we go home."

"Ma'am," Jimmy starts, but I hold up a hand to him and pointedly ignore him until he corrects himself. He lets out a heavy sigh before speaking, "Elinor—you know that I'm not allowed to do that. You're father gave me specific instructions to—"

"—And I'm giving you mine." Jimmy's eyes widen when I round on him with crossed arms and a deathly serious look that I learned from my Pops. "My father hired you to watch over me, make sure I get home safely, and don't run off anywhere. Isn't that correct?"

"Yes, miss, but—"

"—But nothing, Jimmy. I will be perfectly fine at my father's office. After all, if he's so concerned, he'll be able to watch me himself while I'm there." I wait for an argument, but when none comes—just like I planned—I nod and hand him most of my bags. "Alright, now that the matter is settled, we should get going. I don't want to get stuck in traffic again."

Jimmy sighs, and I'll admit it makes me feel a little drunk on power to see him crumble like that. Perks of being raised under the tutelage and doting of Henry Carter, top architect and one of New York's most powerful—and richest—businessmen. I've learned the ways to getting what I want, and the stubbornness I inherited from my mother keeps me from every giving in easily.

Tommy tells me it's one reason he fell for me. Because I'm 'different from the other Sheba's who are all talk but no force.' Lucky for him, I feel in love with him cause he pushed back. Most people just give in and crumble right away like poor Jimmy, but not Tommy, he's got a fire all his own that makes mine burn brighter.

I watch the city fly by in a rush of honking cars, shouting people, and life going on in the most authentic way possible. Although, I don't really allow myself to appreciate it. I'm far too caught up in planning how to catch a moment with Tommy without getting caught to do so. Pops is bound to be hovering over me like I'm an infant in need of constant care.

Still, there's always a momentary lapse. A split second of a close-eyed sigh after a snarky comment, or a glance at another document. Each one a plentiful opportunity for a secretive glance. All which mean so much more under our parent's growing protests and disapproval.

"We're here, Miss." Jimmy calls from the front seat before climbing out and rushing—but failing—to open my door for me. "Is there anything I can carry for you?"

"No, I'll be fine." I tell him with a sigh. The poor boy tries so hard in the hopes of gaining favor with my father that it gets quite frustrating. "I'm going to head up while you park the car, Jimmy."

"It's James." He whispers underneath his breath as he turns away, which makes me laugh slightly to myself. I wait a moment until he's driven away before turning back to the building with a wide grin.

The elevator groans as I take it up to the seventh floor, which contains most of the executive offices. My bags tap against my skirt with every step in a silent reminder they're there. I hold my head high as the eyes of many of my father's staff trail after me. All the while, I continue on my way through the familiar maze of desks.

"Miss Carter, a pleasure to see you again." An all too familiar voice chimes from just behind me. I suppress a smile as I turn to face him. "You're looking lovely as always."

"I wish I could say the same for you, Mr. Parker.”

"I am wounded, Elinor." Tommy places a hand over his heart in mock hurt. "My self-esteem will never recover."

"Well, I'm quite sure your ego will soften the blow and quickly restore it." I turn away from him and add a bit of extra sway to my hips as I leave. "Now, if you don't mind, I came to see my father."

"I'm afraid he's in a meeting at the moment. So it looks like you're stuck with me."

"My what a shame." I whisper happily as we both walk to my father's office to wait. Once we're out of earshot of others, I turn to Tommy. "So, I'm assuming your parents know too? Pops confronted me a few nights ago. Not to mention, he's had all the staff refuse to let me leave past seven."

Tommy lets out a sigh and runs a hand through his previously meticulously styled hair. "Oh, they know. I received quite the earful over you." He pauses and gives me a look. "Of course, you're entirely worth any lecture or punishment they could give."

"Oh am I now?" I tease with a grin as I settle myself into my father's chair. "Good to know that you think so highly of me."

Tommy releases a quick laugh as he shakes his head and leans back against the desk. "C'mon, Birdy, you and I both know that—"

"Well, well, if it isn't Miss Carter here to grace us with her wondrous presence." Christopher Martin interrupts with a slick grin from the doorway. I bite my tongue to hold back a snarky quip or face. "You're looking lovely this afternoon. Is that a new hat?"

"Actually it is. Thank you for noticing, Christopher." I retort and try to hide the disdain from my voice. "I was actually just asking if he had seen my father. Would you mind going and getting him for me?"

"It would be my honor, but he is currently in a private meeting." Christopher grins like a cat, which makes my stomach roil. Every time he looks at me, I suddenly feel like nothing more than a prey before its hunter, and I despise him for it. "Although, I would be happy to help you out in other ways."

My stomach churns at the mere thought of his underlying meanings, and Tommy's fingers curl into fists around the edge of the desk. I swear, if looks could kill a man, Christopher Martin would be nothing but dust under the hateful glare of Tommy and I.

"Actually, could you be a gem and get me a coke?" I bat my eyelashes at him to really persuade him. Luckily, he's too distracted at the moment to really think of a way out.

"Sure thing, doll. Be back in a jiffy." He grins with a wink as he leaves.

"Don't hurry back." I comment under my breath once he's gone. "I swear, one day, I'm going to let my dad catch him looking at me like that. Then he won't even have eyes to ogle me with."

"Or you could just let me at him." Tommy comments still glaring at the empty space that Christopher previously occupied. "I'll make sure he knows how to act around a lady."

"Or—and this is my favorite idea—I could take care of him. I wouldn't mind getting a few swings in myself." I stand up and take one of Tommy's clenched fists in my hands. My fingers rub over his palm and release the tension. "After all, I'm already taken by the best of them."

"Yeah, I suppose you are. Even if we can't always be open about it." There's an edge of sadness to his voice that makes me frown. Tommy has always been the caring, protective type. Never jealous, just worried. I know how much he wants to have those same moments everyone else does—to be able to wrap me in his arms and call me his to the world instead of just a jazz club.

"One day." I remind him with a delicate smile. "Just like you promised, right?"

He lifts my hands and presses a feathery kiss to my knuckles. "Yeah, one day, Birdy."

"You should probably go before my pops comes and finds us." I whisper sadly as I watch his thumb trace over the ridges of my knuckles. Always with the kindest, loving touch. "I don't want you to get into trouble with your folks either."

"You're still worth all the trouble in the world, Birdy." He tells me and presses a kiss to my forehead. "I'll go though—just for you."

Pops comes in a moment later with a sour look on his face. If I didn't know better, I might just think that he was sucking on a lemon or something. "Everything okay, Pops?" I question tentatively and shift on my feet. "You look upset."

His expression softens a little when he sees me. "I'm fine, Ellie." He gives me a brief hug before moving around his desk and sorting through his papers. "So what brings you here? And where is that James boy—isn't he's supposed to be with you?"

"James was parking the car." I tell him and hand him the small Bloomingdales' bag. "I came by because I got something for you this afternoon. I thought you could wear it to my birthday party?"

He looks at the tie for a long second before meeting my eyes with confusion. "Party? What party? Is it nearly your birthday already?"

"Yeah, Pops. I'm turning seventeen next week." My smile and hopes drop when the realization that he actually forgot settles in. "You told me you were gonna organize the party for it."

He pinches the bridge of his nose and avoids my gaze. "I'm sorry, Elinor. I don't think you'll have a party this year. What with your mother gone and your recent behavior, I don't think it's a good idea."

I grit my teeth and bite back the snappy comment threatening to be said. Instead, I just nod and hold back my disappointment. "That's fine. I suppose I can just celebrate with Theta and a few friends at dinner or something." His expression is still sour as if even that is too much, but he still says nothing. "I'm just gonna have James take me home then. Bye, Pops."

"Wait." He calls right as I make it to the doorway. I swallow my hurt and anger, replace them with a smile on his face, and turn to meet his gaze. "Was that the young Mr. Parker I saw leaving here earlier?"

My fingers curl into fists at the thought of another round of lectures, angry accusations, and further punishment or restrictions. "Yes, he was merely being a gentleman and walking me to your office while you were in your meeting." I watch as the familiar crease of frustration appears between my father's brow, which makes me smile softly and as innocently as possible. "I assure you, Poppa, we barely spoke. He was treating me as he would any visitor. Nothing more."

There's a lingering distrust and unbelief in his the blue eyes I used to wish I had inherited. Now, all I can see there is ice—cold and judgmental, and any sense of warm emotions bury deep beneath the worry. "I'm glad you finally decided to listen to me for once, Elinor." He finally says with a tense smile, and I know he doesn't believe a single word either of us just spoke. "Why don't you have James take you home, and then we can go out to dinner tonight. We'll consider it an early birthday celebration before we discuss the actual event."

"Sure thing, Poppa." I tell him with a bittersweet look. "I'll see you at home then?"

"Of course," He smiles, but there's something else there I haven't seen before. It's startling and cold. A shiver runs through me from the look, but he just keeps smiling as I turn to leave again. "Just be sure to send James in here before you go. I have a few matters I want to discuss with him."

I nod and send James in after me. Something twists in my stomach at the lingering feeling of my father's and my meeting. There was just something so unlike my father in his eyes, like the madness I picture when I read the Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. It was so calm yet unhinged.

"Here you go, darling." Christopher chimes from next to me and nearly makes me jump out of my skin. I look at him incredulously before noticing the bottle of coca-cola in his hand, which drips condensation onto my skin as I accept it with a dazed look. "What, no thank you?"

"Thank you, Christopher." I mumble before turning to him with an empty gaze as my thoughts are still lost. "Don't you have work to return to?" His eyes widen in surprise at my abrupt comment before he quickly scurries off.

Normally I would crack a smile at the sight of Christopher practically running away from me, but the churning in my stomach doesn't allow me much enjoyment. I sip on the cold drink in my hand with some ridiculous hope that it will provide a distraction of any sorts. The most is does is fill my mouth with carbonation.

I can feel eyes lingering on me. The gazes of Pop's employees wondering what has the boss's kid looking so dour. One pair of light brown eyes holds a concern that the rest lack, and it makes the hard edge of my frown soften under his gaze. I try to offer him a smile, but the best I can manage is less of a frown.

A part of me wishes I could walk over to him and speak freely—maybe hold his hand if I'm feeling scandalous. Yet, I know there's no way to do so. Because any moment one of our parents—or someone more than willing to rat us out to them—could see.

Then, there would be nothing for us. No more promises of "one day," jazz club nights, or goodbye kisses. Because if either of our fathers knew just how deep our feelings went, we'd be on a one way trip to boarding school or engaged so fast our heads would spin.

It's one risk I could never take. I love Tommy too much to chance what we have—no matter how little it may be. If I lost him, I think I would lose a piece of myself.

"Ready to go, Miss Carter?" Jimmy asks as he nervously turns his hat in his hands, and I'm still too entrapped in my own head to remind him to call me 'Elinor.' Instead, I just nod and adjust the bottle and purse in my hands as we walk out. 

Something in the back of my mind acknowledges the oddity of James's current behavior. His fingers keep drumming against the steering wheel, and his eyes refuse to stay focused on a part of the road like usual. It strikes me as quite peculiar. Jimmy's always been the focused, stoic, and still type, and only one explanation for the change comes to mind.

"What did he say to you?"

"I don't know what you're asking about, Miss Carter." He tries to remain casual, but I can see it in his demeanor. He knows precisely what I'm talking about. I remain quiet and simply wait for him to break. A trickle of sweat appears on his brow as he rushes to come up with a plausible excuse. "Your father wanted to discuss my position and performance. Nothing more than that, Miss Carter."

"I don't believe you, James, but I obviously can't force you to tell me anything. Just know I will find out if it involves me. So, for your sake, I certainly hope it doesn't." I snap before making a point fo ignoring James for the rest of the way back home. Even as the elevator operator tries to make small talk, I remain completely silent.

Something is wrong. The way my father seemed so eerily calm in comparison to these last weeks and James's skittish behavior, it just doesn't settle right with me. I don't bother to even look back as I march into the apartment and slam the door to my room shut.

My hat collides with the lamp shade as I toss it aside in frustration. It only grows as I try to sort through the growing puzzle. Nothing seems to make much sense. The only thing that seems halfway normal is my relationship with Tommy, and it takes all my self control to not ring him up for his opinion.

There's a click, and my stomach drops down to the lobby, where it lands with a thunk. I race over to my door to confirm my worst assumption. The handle clicks but doesn't move in the slightest.

I rest my forehead against it with a heavy sigh. This must be what my father was talking to Jimmy about. Maybe he's truly gone round the bend. All I know for certain is that I'm trapped with no clear way out.


	3. Chapter 3

The front door slams shut, and the sound echoes through the whole penthouse. I perk up from my window seat, half in wonder of what will happen next and the other half in total dread. My father had me locked away in here for the majority of the day, and there's no telling why, what he's thinking, or what he'll decide to do next.

His footsteps wander around the apartment, and his nightly conversations with the walls picks up earlier than usual. I move to press my ear against the door, but the words are still muffled.

"Poppa?" My tongue forms the word before I can think better of it. "Pops, please, let me out of here, or at least explain why you had me locked in my room."

It's like a coin flip. The lock to the door clicks and hand turns. My father is the same eerie calm I had seen him earlier. "I'm sorry about the misunderstanding, Elinor. I had asked James to watch over you until I had gotten back."

"So he thought it more efficient to lock me in my room and leave?" I question, doubtful of any truth to this story. "Pops, please, just tell me what's going on. You've been acting odd lately."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." He coos and lifts a hand to brush over my hair. "Things have been difficult lately, but I want to make it up to you. Consider it an apology for how distrusting I've been and an early birthday celebration. Just until I can find a proper gift for my wonderful daughter."

Something in me knows this isn't right—that there is something wrong. Yet, my heart is too happy to see my Pops being his kind, loving self that it's hard to care. It feels like an eternity of that troubled look on his face, that sadness always lingering, and moods that come out of nowhere. Any sliver of happiness feels like a blessing, and I'll take in any dose I can get.

"Sure thing, Pops." I smile half-heartedly. "Maybe it will give us a chance to talk about what's been going on lately. We haven't really been talking much."

"Yes, yes." He mutters and pats down his pockets in search of something. "Why don't you go get ready, and we can go to that restaurant on West 44th that you love so much."

"Really? And here I thought you hated that place. You always complain that it's too expensive and such." I smile at the fact that he remembered.

Although, he doesn't know why I love it so much. Tommy and I sneak in sometimes before our nights at the jazz club. It's always so snazzy and luxurious; the place has some lovely memories for me. Plus, we get to socialize and spend time with some of the biggest names in theater and the press if you pick the right time of night.

"Well, I'm sure I can handle it for one night if it means that I can make my daughter happy." For a moment, that strange look is gone, and all that's left is the father I knew as a child. "Now go get ready, Elinor. Then we can head out."

I press a kiss to his cheek and ignore the sinking feeling in my gut. There is so much about this that is screaming for me to not follow along. But it's hard for me to ignore that my father is being so sweet and kind like he used to be before Mum left. It's a comfort that I can't deny; I've missed it far too much.

Still, I know how much Tommy and Theta would be lecturing me for going along if they knew the situation. Even I'm starting to think I'm a little insane as we climb into my Pop's car. Especially as that foggy look returns to Pop's eyes, and my stomach starts to churn at the sight.

The feeling only worsens as we pass by the familiar restaurant. "Pops, I thought we were going to Sardi's? You just passed the street."

"Oh, yes. I have a small surprise ready for you before we get dinner." He says it so calmly that it makes panic flutter through me. For a split second, I consider trying to jump out when he slows down to stop and making a run for it. Especially as he takes a turn down one of the seedier streets and stops in front of a dingy shop.

A faded sign written in a different language with the equally faded English translation underneath a strangely decorated palm. It reads, "Madame Vitario, fortune teller and mystic."

"Pops, what—what are we doing here?" I question as he leads me inside. "You always tell me you never believe in fortune telling and mysticism."

"Yes, well, this isn't about me." He replies and seems to shut down the matter entirely as a surprisingly young woman emerges through a colorful curtain with a smile. "Now, Miss Vitario, this is my daughter, who I spoke to you on the phone about earlier."

"Ah, so this is the lovely Elinor." She smiles with a gap between her two front teeth and a heavy accent. "Come, come with me. We talk in private."

The woman grabs my hand and leads me past the bright curtain she emerged from only a moment before. I look back to my father helplessly, but he only smiles emptily with that worrisome gleam in his eyes. 

"Sit down, if you please." Madame Vitario instructs as she moves some items off the table. "You're father told me much about you, Elinor. He said you like to sing? And that you are in love with a boy he does not approve of?"

I fold my hands atop the table, a cool anger settling in. "Yes, but I don't see how any of that is your business or why my father would tell you any of those things."

The raven haired woman smiles at me like a Cheshire cat. "He seems to think I can help."

"With what?"

"You. Your father wishes for me to help him settle you down, to convince you that you are making mistakes. So, he comes to me just like many others have."

"And what exactly do you plan to do?"

"Give me your hands." She demands, palms up as if to demonstrate. It's a long moment of us starting at one another before I finally give in despite my better judgement. "Now, I'm going to tell you a story." She says softly as her fingers begin to trace over the lines of my palms.

"And how is a story going to do _anything_?" I question, but I get no answer despite a long hard look from Madame Vitario.

"You will often hear the old Greek story of the Sirens, or should I say the lies they told. They claimed that Sirens were monsters who lured sailors into rocky coves with the sound of their voice, but it is not true. That is a story created out of the fear of ordinary men. Sirens were still human; they had just been changed. They were people with something special, who saw the darkness in the souls of others and were the only ones who could banish it.

"They were much like you, Elinor, before they were changed that is. Except, the thing that they valued most about themselves—what others would remember them by—was taken away from them. It was replaced by something else. A quality as unique to them as the one taken away.

"Those qualities were used to search for the one thing that could return what they had lost and to fulfill their destiny until it was found. It was used to determine who a person truly was. They received a gift to help cleanse those who needed it most and to eventually cleanse themselves." Madame Vitario's slender fingers shift and wrap around my wrist. "A gift that you will receive too."

As the words leave her lips, something strange starts to happen. My head spins as her voice and strange words become foggy and muddled. Pain shoots up from her grip around my wrist traveling and hitting my throat full force until it feels like acid tracing every inch.

I open my mouth to scream, but the sensation of the air hitting my throat only makes it worse. Every part of my body is writhing under her grip, unable to process what is going on. All the while, Madame Vitario sits across from me calm as can be as she continues to whisper.

Then, as suddenly as it began, it all stops.

Tears continue to stream down my face as I tear my hands away from the vile woman in front of me. My fingers wrap around the worn down armrests. "What have you done to me?" I mean to scream at her, but all that comes out are grotesque, hollow noises. My lips mouth the words a hundred times, but the result is always the same.

I press my hands to my throat as the realization hits me. "I am sorry, child, but you will soon understand the gift I gave you is worth far more than what I took." She reasons with a cool air, but I don't bother to listen. My chair topples over with a loud crash as I scramble to leave as quick as possible.

Pops stands up from his seat in the dingy lobby as I run out and calls my name. I don't hear him—or better yet— I don't listen. He chases after me as I run. I run away from him, from the psychotic Madame, from everything until I reach the main, bustling street.

That's when I finally crumble to my knees with a mangled sob. Pops finally catches up to me, clearly confused by my lack of explanation as I shove him away. "Elinor, what's wrong? Is everything okay?" He questions as he takes a step closer.

I merely glare and shove him away with another guttural cry. He doesn't seem to get the message as he grabs hold of my flailing arms, still confused. It's clear when it all finally dawns on him–I have no voice, no words, nothing but strangled, guttural sounds.

He looks back over his shoulder toward the old shop we were at moments before. Then, it all clicks. His eyes fill with sorrow, regret, and a touch of anger as he speaks. "She took your voice."


	4. Chapter 4

It's been nearly two days, but in all honesty, it has felt like two decades. Pops hasn't stopped trying to comfort me in any way he can think of. Yet, I always push him away. He's done enough for me already.

So far, the only exchanges we've had is when I allowed him to take me back to the penthouse. Once we made it here, I refused to so much as look at him. I don't want to hate him, but it's the only thing I can currently feel towards him. Every ounce of familial love is buried under layers of malice caused by his desire for a daughter I could never truly be.

"Excuse me, Mr. Carter, but I'm here to see Elinor. She hasn't answered my calls and never showed up for lunch like we always go to on Tuesdays." Theta's familiar voice echoes through the apartment. I peek from my bedroom to witness her shoving her way past Pops into the penthouse and moving with such gusto that no one would dare stop her.

The moment she finds me perched at my windowsill, she closes the door with a tight smile. "Goodness, Birdy, you really can't scare me like that—or Thomas for that matter. He was in such a panic when you didn't show up at the Starlight."

I look down at my hands before returning my gaze to the city outside. "Birdy? Are-are you alright? Did your Pops do something crazy to 'reform' you again?" Tears build in my eyes at the question. I want so badly to tell her everything, to articulate even the barest explanation of what happened, but there's no words left in me. "Elinor, please, say something. You're scaring me."

The use of my actual name finally breaks me, and I clamp a hand over my mouth to avoid the horrifying noise that I now make. Theta wastes no time to wrap her arms around me. "Doll, you've gotta tell me what's wrong."

My breath comes in hiccups as I move out of her grip to my typewriter. Theta just watches me patiently as a crease appears between her brows. "It's a long story, and I don't even know if you'll believe me." The letters appear one at a time, and Theta reads each word aloud, her hair bouncing as she turns to me in confusion. So I continue on, telling her the whole thing as I break down in tears with each word.

By the time I've finished, there's a page and a half of neatly typed letters with that make up the entire story of how broken I've become. Theta turns to me with tears brimming over in those vibrant green eyes that make the boys fall for her in an instant. "We've got to get you out of here. There's no way I'm letting you stay here a moment longer."

I look to the door and hope she'll understand the question I'm posing. "Never mind him. Get dressed; I'm taking you to Thomas. He'll have a better idea of what to do about all of this." Theta lets out a heavy sigh. "Maybe it really was a bunch chin and you'll get it back. Either way, I'm not going to let you stay here a moment longer—and I'm sure Tommy will more than agree. Just get dressed, doll, I'll take care of the rest."

It only takes a minute before I'm dressed with my hair still in a frightful mess and not a spot of makeup on with an overnight bag in hand. Still, it's not as though I can bring myself to care at right now. All I can think about is Tommy, because I know just how angry he'll be when he hears about everything, and I can't afford to lose anything—or anyone—else.

Theta quickly comes back into the room with her head held high as she takes my hand and drags me after her. Pops barely looks up from his fidgeting hands as we stalk our way out the front door. I suppose he's too ashamed to face me or Theta. "Down to the lobby, please." She chimes politely to the operator as she keeps a hold of my hand and rubs gentle circles on it.

We make it to the Starlight in record time, and the old house looks like nothing more in the daylight. It helps me to understand why no one knows of the secrets and comfort it hides away. Although, I don't know how often I'll frequent here without being able to perform on stage.

It hurts to think of it. That woman stole so much more than my voice. She stole my chance of more moments with Tommy. The ones where we get lost in the music and find each other in the performance. Now, that is going to be lost with my voice.

"Ollie, thank you so much for letting us disrupt your schedule." Theta chimes as Ollie greets us at the door. "Like I said on the phone, it's a bit of an emergency."

"Of course, anything for my stars." He chuckles and drops his voice to a whisper. "Plus, it helps diffuse any suspicions. People coming over is a normal thing to do."

"And Thomas? Is he here yet?"

Ollie nods and nods inside. "A few minutes ago. He seemed quite flustered, wouldn't even sit down. Been waiting for you in the parlor."

As if the sound of his name draws him out, Tommy rounds the corner with wild eyes. The moment his eyes fall on me, he lets out a deep sigh of relief. "Birdy, you're okay. I was so terrified when Theta called saying something happened to you." My eyes water up as I drop my bag to the floor and all but collapse in his arms. "Wait, what's wrong?"

"We should sit down. It's a long story to tell." Theta interjects as she opens up her bag and unfolds the papers I typed out earlier. "Plus, you're certainly not going to like what you hear."

I sit helplessly with my hands fidgeting atop my lap as Theta recounts the whole gruesome tale to Thomas and Ollie in the words I told her earlier. Tommy turns to me as she speaks, eyes full of sorrow as each detail is recounted. My eyes fill with tears as I reach out for his hand. He quickly takes it in his and squeezes before standing up.

"That's it. I'm gonna kill him." He yells as he moves to march out the door. I jump into his path and set my jaw. "Birdy, please, let me do this."

I shake my head and extend my arms to block the door. "No." I try to speak out of habit, but of course, nothing comes out except another odd noise that hurts worse than almost anything else. Tommy's eyes immediately drop to me with such pain it makes my own heart ache in my chest.

"This shouldn't have happened to you. Despite what you say it is my fault." Tommy whispers with a sadness that resonates in me too. "I shouldn't have let it happen to you, Birdy. Especially not when I was just about to give us our one day."

I tilt my head at him wondering what on earth he could be talking about. Theta has the same question I did and actually voices it. Tommy finally meets my eye as he reaches into his coat pocket. It takes me a long moment to tear my eyes away from him and to the small, velvet box resting in his palm.

The sight of the box alone makes my breath catch in my throat, and I swear it becomes impossible to breathe when he flips open the lid. "I had asked for his permission a few days ago after you stopped by." Tommy whispers as he takes the emerald ring from its cushion and waits for my hand. 

"It made me realize that I didn't want to wait any longer for us to have a someday. Not to mention, I know how much it hurt you and your father when your mum left, so I wanted to do it properly."

I place my hand in his and watch with teary eyes as he slides the ring onto my finger. My heart shatters in my chest. There's a part of me that wonders if this is genuine, if Tommy could still truly want to marry me. Although, like always, he seems to know exactly what I'm thinking. "Nothing in this world could make me love you any less. Even without a voice, you are still are still the same woman I feel in love with and want to have a thousand somedays with."

A real smile starts to dance across my lips. Because, right now I don't think I could love him any more than this exact moment. "We'll give you two some time." Theta chimes as she and Ollie slip out.

"Are you gonna be alright?" Thomas asks after a long moment of being wrapped in his arms. I nod against his chest and pretend that I'm not on the verge of tears.

"I'm gonna let that little lie slide for now, but I am gonna help you take your mind off of it. Tonight, we're both gonna knock back some gin, dance, and forget about our crazy parents for one night. How does that sound?"

A smile creeps across my face as I nod. It's a small comfort face a fear and find it irrational. At this point, I take every ounce of it, which seems to make Tommy a little bit happier.

There's his little smile across his lips that makes my heart melt a little at the sight of it. I start—just for a moment—to believe that maybe, things will be alright—maybe I can be happy with Tommy after all.


	5. Chapter 5

The club is swinging as everyone dances and drinks to their hearts content. I sip on my glass of gin and watch them. Jealousy is bubbling in my chest as Theta sings what used to be my set. It's just another reminder that it might never be me up there again.

"Don't worry, Birdy. I'm sure you're voice will be back to singing shape in no time at all." Arty, the usual bartender, tries to encourage me as he refills my glass. I offer him a fake smile and spin the glass around on the countertop.

"He's right, you know, Miss Elinor." Chills trace across my arms at the too familiar voice despite the lessoned accent, and it only takes a moment before Madame Vitario walks into my line of sight with her gap-toothed smile.

It takes me a moment to connect the voice with the woman who ruined my life. In this light and average clothes, she could almost be mistaken for normal. The wrinkles that painted her face seem softer, and she looks nearly youthful as she leans against the bar.

"It is quite possible to regain what you lost. In fact, I was going to explain it before you ran off and didn't finish the story."

I clench my glass and grit my teeth, wishing nothing more that I could shout all the hateful words on the tip of my tongue and hurt her like she hurt me. But nothing can come out of my mouth except for horrific groans. She smiles at me, and for a split second, I swear she looks sorry.

"I know you're understandably upset, and I also should have explained everything before finishing the transition." My knuckles turn white at the comment, but she continues on entirely unaware. "Looking back, that's entirely my fault. Hence why I had to find you and finish the story."

She pauses for a moment when I slam my hand against the bar, tip back my drink, and turn away from her. "Walk away if you must, but then you'll never learn how to get back what you lost."

Her words stop me in my tracks, which gives Madame Vitario the encouragement she seems to need. "There's others like you out there too, you know, other Sirens, and people who want to see any and all Sirens obliterated. If you leave now, you'll never learn how to find the right group. Nor will you learn what it takes to be whole again."

The information gives me a long pause. I'm half tempted to stay and listen to what she has to say, but then, I lock eyes with Tommy, who smiles at me happily. It occurs to me that this is all part of her sick, twisted game. Perhaps it's another way for her to toy and upset me further, to ruin any chance I have at normality by sending me chasing nothing.

I turn around and do the only thing that I can in this situation to make my feelings to her clearer than the crystal glass in her slender fingers—I spit in her face. She reels back with eyes wide, and the song ends with a screeching piano bench as the closest people in the club turn to watch the spectacle.

It only takes a moment before I feel a comforting hand wrap around my waist. "Everything okay, Birdy?" He questions softly, but I can hear the lingering edge in his voice from the idea of me in any form of danger. Madame Vitario's eyes dart between me and Tommy, another one of her cryptic smiles pulling at her lips.

I nod before linking my hand with Tommy's and moving as far away as I can from the vile woman, who still watches me with a predator's eyes. The moment we're far enough away, I grab the nearest glass and tip it back in the hope to be able to forget the whole event.

Tommy frowns at the action, clearly not believing it was nothing. "Birdy," he whispers and rests his forehead against my own, "you've really gotta start talking to me about what's going on in your head."

I tug on his hand and shake my head. There's bound to be time to explain later, but right now, I barely know what to think about everything—much less talk through it. So I pull us out into the dance floor and rest my head on his chest to feel his heartbeat.

His laugh echoes through, and I relish the feeling and sound of it as it settles in my bones. The music rumbles on in a stark contrast to our movements with it's fast rhythm that sends the other dancers moving quickly to keep up. Except for Tommy and I.

We remain in our own little world, just dancing slowly like the everyone is gone. His thumb traces down the side of our linked hands, and he lets out a contended sigh as he presses his cheek to my head. "You know, I was thinking." He whispers, causing me to peek up at him through my lashes as he continues. "Maybe we never really needed to promise for a 'one day.' 'Cause I'm starting to think that we've had it all along."

My heart flutters at the comment and stop momentarily to lift my head. I press a quick kiss to his lips with a smile. Because there's nothing else in this whole world that could make me love Thomas Parker any more than I do right now.

"In fact," He resumes with a cheeky grin, "maybe we could stop by the courthouse in the morning. It won't be anything fancy, but then at least it will be offic—"

A sharp yell cuts him off, and it takes me a moment to hear the words amidst the rising clamor. "Everyone scram! The fuzz is here!" Someone calls from the stairs, and I immediately look to Tommy in utter terror.

We've all heard the barber from others in the business. Stories of buttons roughing up people to prove a point, causing trouble at anyone who forgets to pay for discretion, and the tales of how some got a bit of lead poisoning with the bracelets.

It's utter pandemonium as everyone starts to scream and rush for a way out. Tommy grips onto my hand to avoid losing me in the mess, but his fingers slip from my grasp as a surge of people tear me away and knock me to the floor. My limbs scramble to push myself back up, only to get repeatedly knocked down by heels and boots.

"Birdy!" I hear Tommy's voice screaming repeatedly in the haze. My arms and legs throb as a pair of hands grab my shoulders and lift me up, which sends me scratching and fighting under the assumption it's a copper. "Birdy, it's me. C'mon, we gotta get outta here."

I nod, and wrap an arm around his waist to help support me while the other clutches at my ribs. Tears stream down my face as we struggle to make it through the crowd. The bartenders step on the hidden pedals to drop all the liquor bottles into the cellar to prevent leaving any evidence, where they can almost be heard shattering down the chutes, and then they all bolt like their britches are up in flames.

Luckily, Ollie has a house rule of making sure anyone helping make money knows how to make a clean break. So Tommy and I immediately start following the directions of the nearest escape that we were told so long ago as the patrons draw all the attention. Behind the bar on the left, down the hall, and hit the paneling at the end. I repeat inside my head and try not to fall down as Tommy drags me along.

We round the corner, so close to making it out that I can taste it on my lips. Tommy keeps whispering encouragements, and I can hear it in his voice that's he's feeling pretty hopeful too. Except, it all drains the moment we hear the phrase we were working so hard to escape. "Hey, stop right there!"

My stomach drops when I see the dreadfully distinctively uniform, and it burrows itself into the ground when I notice the glinting pistol in his hand. "I said, stop right there!" He repeats when we make no move to slow down.

Tommy pulls me closer to his side, and I squeeze my eyes shut as the fear freezes every inch of my body. Everything feels like it slows down as the shots start—echoing and crackling like fireworks, most likely warning shots, but still terrifying. My fingers curl Tommy's shirt in my fingers as we slide down the chute to the cellar.

Tears stream down my face as we tumble across the cold, hard cement. Everything aches and throbs, and I can barely bring myself to move until I hear Tommy's voice and heavy breaths. "See? I told you I would always make sure we made it out and protect you, Birdy." He whispers and helps me sit up, except, there's a strain to his voice that sends panic through me.

I immediately force myself up, entirely oblivious to the pain. Because all I can focus on is Tommy—the small grunts and labored breathing. My eyes and hands search for any injury—no matter how small, but he quickly stops me. "Birdy, please, stop." He begs, and as he lifts his hand, I see it.

A spot of crimson on his perfectly starched shirt that is slowly blooming.

Tommy presses a hand to my mouth and reminds me to be quiet—if we're heard, then we're done for. Still, I struggle to bite back the screams bubbling as my hands press to the wound in a foolish hope of stopping the quickly pouring blood. "Please, no. Don't do this to me." I try to whisper to him through the pain, but no real words come. "I can't lose you too. Don't make me go on without you."

One of his blood covered hands rests on my cheek as he watches me with a painful understanding of what's to come. "Birdy, listen to me." He whispers and has to lift my chin to pull my gaze from the wound. "This isn't your fault. I know you'll blame yourself, but it's not. You're not gonna lose me. Not now, not ever. I'm always gonna be with you."

I press my forehead to his with closed eyes as the tears run down my cheeks in tidal waves of pain. "Hey, don't close those eyes on me. Look at me." I begrudgingly oblige knowing that this might just be it. "I know I don't say this often in exact words," he struggles to whisper as his once rosy cheeks drain of any color, "but I—I love—I love you, Elinor Car—."

His brown eyes disappear behind heavy lids, and I struggle to catch him as his head drops. Blond hair sticks to his forehead, eyes softly closed, and blood staining his hands and shirt. It takes me a moment of shaking and silent pleading for the truth to settle in, and when it does, my whole world implodes.

I clamp a hand over my mouth to keep quiet as the sobs and grief filled screams slip past my lips. Yet, I struggle to care about hiding away. All I want to do is scream, fight and hurt the people who did this to me—to Tommy. But I stay quiet, only because a moment ago Tommy was begging me to to so. 

Still, I can't lie. My heart rips its way out of my chest to rest in his still palms with every breath I take that he doesn't. Eternity passes by with each second that those amber eyes don't glimmer or lips curve up with a smile.

"Ollie! I found them!" Theta shouts as he peers around one of the doors connecting to the rest of the underground network. "Thank goodness, we were so scared you two didn't make it ou—"

The room goes silent when she notices Tommy's bloodstained shirt and still body with me hunched over in tears. In the blink of an eye, she's by our side, trying to shake Tommy awake and disprove her fear. "We'll get him to a hospital. He'll be fine. It's all gonna be okay." She babbles as he own tears start to flow.

"Theta, he's—" Ollie chokes on the words, but there's no need to finish the sentence. We all know what he's trying to say, it's just too hard to believe that it could really have happened. His eyes bore into me as he sputters out the painful statement. "I'm so sorry, but he's gone."

My fingers curl Tommy's jacket in my fists. Because Ollie's wrong—he has to be. Tommy wouldn't leave me like this. He promised. I have the ring on my finger to prove it.

Except, now the gem is dulled, the once golden band muddied with blood. It hits me in a tidal wave stronger than the pain Madame Vitario caused as the truth finally settles in.

There's no way he's coming back. Tommy—the only person I've ever truly loved—is dead, and I feel as though I've lost the last tie to any chance of happiness, to any will to continue on, and to even be human.

Now, I'm nothing. I'm not a human. I'm not sure what I am right now, but I have a feeling that Madame Vitario was wrong. Perhaps there won't be redemption for me—or others. Because all I want now is the destruction that is burrowing in my bones to be felt by everyone.

I want revenge.


	6. Chapter 6

A hand gently rests on my shoulder, and I have to bite my lip to keep from shrugging it off. Every action feels false. It's all coated with a false kindness that people have at funerals. Although, this is a different kind that they specially reserve for the fiancée of the lost.

"We'll get through this, Birdy. You're strong enough to do this, and I'm here for you the whole time." Theta tells me, her voice thick with sorrow and emotions. I try to force a smile at her, but nothing comes.

Everything about this feels wrong. The sun is beating down uncharacteristically for this season, people keep telling me how sad it is for a beautiful couple to be torn apart, and everyone acts like they know exactly who I am and how I feel. But they don't. Because even I don't know who I am; I do know how I feel though.

Anger radiates from my bones, a hollowness echoing from the empty space in my chest, and sadness from every thought of Tommy and his lack of presence. Not to mention, an overwhelming need to enact revenge and cause havoc on those that hurt me.

Tommy has always been—always was there one with the biggest dreams. He told me about how when we finally ran off together, he was going to do something good with his life. All that's gone now.

My head can't seem to process it. Tommy can't be the one in that coffin; he can't be dead. It's a mistake. I don't know how to cope if it's real. Because every second without hearing his voice or seeing his smile makes me feel like I'm drifting farther out to sea with no hope of returning.

Theta watches me with worry as I casually walk away without a word when the casket is finally lowered. "Where are you going?" She calls as she chases after me, but I ignore her as I keep walking.

Tears stream down my face as I clutch the same strip of paper that I've been memorizing since it was given to me. It's a simple message reading, James Mallory, but that's all the information I need. Just the simple name of the man who killed Tommy. Now all that's left is to find him—and kill him.

Except, I never make it that far. The emotions overwhelm me the moment I glance a policeman on the corner. It's not him, but the badge and glinting buttons bring back the horrors of that night in full force.

My vision is painted in red, hands feel sticky with imagined blood, and the faint sound of shouts and gunshots overtake the busy street in front of me. It all goes fuzzy. Cars and people feeling miles away as I struggle to stay upright.

A pair of hands stop my fall. For a blissful second, I almost think it's Tommy, despite the impossibility of the idea. Instead, it's a complete stranger with midnight black hair and eyes like sapphire. "You okay there, Miss?"

I nod and try to bite back the growing shame as realization hits of how foolish I'm being. No one just hurts a cop without a plan, yet I thought myself invincible enough to rush in and do just that. It's probably best I take some time to think through my revenge plan, but right now, I can barely take a step without stumbling.

The stranger offers me a tight smile and keeps hold to steady me. "Just give yourself a second. Take a minute to steady yourself before rushing off. After all, Madame Vitario probably did a number on you."

My head snaps up at the familiar name of the vile mystic woman who started this whole mess. "I should probably introduce myself, Ben Steeler." He tells me with a knowing smile as he extends his hand to shake my own.

His blue eyes watch me curiously as I look down at the floor in shame that I can't answer. "Not much of a talker? It's alright. If you change your mind and want to talk, come find me. I'm staying with my family in at the Aberdeen Hotel." There's something about his words that hold a double meaning, and his blue eyes stare into mine as if he's trying to convey the full weight of the offer.

I nod, unsure of whether or not I trust him enough to believe him or accept the offer. Still, curiosity is already readying the knife to kill the cat. "Good, I hope to see you soon then." With those words, Ben Steeler offers me one last nod before he walks away into the bustling crowd.

"Birdy! Thank goodness I found you." Theta huffs as she fans herself with her purse despite the oncoming chill of winter. "For a minute there I thought you were going to do something crazy."

It takes her a moment to catch on to my mental absence, and she raises an eyebrow as she follows my line of sight to the spot Ben Steeler disappeared. "Everything okay, doll? You look like you've seen a ghost."

I barely manage a nod and mime out the need for a pen. It's the only way I can communicate anymore. Her purse clicks open, her gloved hands searching inside for a scrap of paper and pencil. "Here you go."

My fingers immediately scramble to take it and find a decent surface to write on, which ends up being the brick wall next to us. It makes the letters jagged and misshapen, but it's legible enough for her to understand. "Met a man who knew about Madame Vitario." Theta reads aloud, and I have to swallow down the jealousy that constant bubbles in my throat when she voices my words.

"Wait, what happened? Let's get you back so you can explain the full story." Theta demands as she grabs my wrist and tugs me along, but I hold back. She turns to me, eyes wide with worry. "Birdy?"

I shake my head at her and start to tug her along. "Can you at least tell me where you're dragging me off too?" Theta questions, and I huff as I stop to scribble down the name of the hotel Ben Steeler told me.

Of course, it would take a lot more paper to explain why we're going there, but it would only make her try to convince me to not go or think I've gone round the bend. So, I just let her wonder.

We pull up in front of the grand Aberdeen Hotel. It's certainly not a place I would stay, but it still has that air of luxury—old fashioned at best, but still quite upscale. Its statues and the gothic overhang greet us as we enter, and my palms get sweaty with nerves.

The fear that this could all be some trap by Madame Vitario lingers. Except, the need to know what Ben Steeler does is too much to pass by this opportunity. My heart races with every step we take up to the concierge desk and ask to place a call up to the room of Mr. Steeler.

"He asked that you wait in the lobby while he makes his way down." The concierge tells us with that forced grin that comes pre-prepared for anyone working with the upper class. Theta gives him a quick thanks and asks for another piece of paper before dragging me to the plush couches lining the lobby's living area.

"Here." She angrily whispers as she passes me the paper and pen. "Now, please, tell me what you dragged me here for."

I try to scribble down the sentences as best as I can with my divided attention. Every single time the elevator hits the ground floor, my heart jumps in my chest. Of course, it only makes Theta tap her fingers against the armrest the longer I make her wait.

The most I manage to scrawl out is the briefest of explanations for meeting Ben here and pass it to Theta and focus my attention solely on the elevators. "Have you gone around the bend? What makes you so sure it's not a con? Or a trap to get you back to that nutcase?"

I shake my head in denial. There's something deep in my chest that is stronger than the doubt. It echoes like the rhythm of a song in my bones. Each time it rings with confidence that this is where I'm supposed to be. Right here, right now.

"I'm glad to see you came." Ben calls with a wide smile as he places himself in the seat across from mine. "I was hoping I didn't scare you off."

Theta just looks between us, clearly confused. "This is all fine and dandy, but would you care to explain what exactly you said to my friend to bring her here? And why?"

"My apologies for any distress. I'm Ben Steeler" He flashes a charming grin and extends a hand to Theta, which she reluctantly accepts. "I asked her to come here because of what happened to her. She's not the first and certainly won't be the last."

"Is that a threat?" Theta snaps with narrowed eyes.

"No, it's certainly not. In fact, my family and I do everything we can to protect and help each other." His blue eyes turn to me, fully of care and compassion. "We stay together and search for a way to get back what we lost. I'd like you to meet the rest of my family, let them tell you their stories, and hear yours."

I can feel Theta's gaze drilling into the side of my head, but I can't bring myself to look away from Ben's. There's a connection there. A feeling of understanding and empathy in the vibrant blue of his eyes. It nearly brings tears back to my own, despite being all cried out.

Theta continues to give me an odd look as I turn to her and nod. My hand finds hers as I try to silently convey my reasoning and need to do this. It takes her a long moment before she lets out a heavy sigh. "Fine, but I'm going too. I don't want anything else to happen to you."

"You're more than welcome to join us, but I can't guarantee my siblings will be open to talking with you there." Ben tells her but doesn't protest when we both follow him in the elevator. "I never did catch your name."

"Her name is Elinor, but most of us call her 'Birdy' since she was always such a canary." Theta tells him for me and offers me a sad smile at the past tense.

"So, she took your voice?" I nod and try not to stare down at my feet to hide the pain. Ben seems to notice it despite my efforts. "You're not alone anymore, Elinor. Trust me, it will be easier to understand when you meet the others, but we all know what you're going through."

My mind can't help but wander as Ben leads us to a suite of room that he said his family is gathering in. It's an odd concept that there are others like me. People who have had something important to them stripped away for no clear reason.

Ben stops in front of room 318 and props the door open for us to walk inside. "Right this way." He grins and leads us into the parlor room of the suite where a group of chatting men and women that all turn to look at us when we come into view. "Elinor, I would like you to meet my family—or as you might know them—the rest of the sirens."


	7. Chapter 7

I look around the room, a myriad of faces returning the gaze. "So, you must be the one we heard Calling us these past few days." One of the girls states in a thick Gaelic accent and a sad smile. "Pardon me, I should introduce myself. I am Aileen and this is my brother, Connor."

"Gee, thanks for taking care of that for me." The boy next to her grins jokingly. "What my sister neglected to mention is that despite the fact we're twins, I'm clearly the more charming one."

The comment brings a laugh tumbling from my lips, which I quickly realize is the first time I've laughed since becoming a Siren. Except, now it's not a light, pretty sound, but the same mangled noise that I make now. It makes everyone turn to me if they weren't before.

"Do you mind if I ask—?" Connor starts to question, but the words quickly die as he's unsure how to finish.

"Madame Vitario took her voice." Ben whispers to the rest of the group, who all nod somberly, but there's no form of pity in their eyes—only a bitter understanding.

The girl with ebony hair leans forward and places a hand over mine. "Well, you're in good company now. Each one of us has suffered and been robbed by a Madame Vitario. We're all searching for answers too. Hopefully you'll let us help you?"

I tilt my head when she mentions 'a Madame Vitario.' Theta seems to have the same question, which she doesn't hesitate to voice. "It's a long story." The ebony haired girl, who quickly introduces herself as Sophie a moment later sighs. "There's no proof to any of it, but when we met, we all realized that the woman who _changed_ us wasn't the same person. She had different eyes and hair. Not to mention, some of us were too far apart for one woman to do it all."

"Too far apart?" I question with scribbles on the quickly filling slip of paper.

"You didn't tell her?" Aileen snaps as she turns to Ben with a cold glare.

"There wasn't exactly a good time to bring it up." He counters.

"I'll take the honor if no one else will." A rugged boy around my age interjects.

"Monty, don't. You'll only frighten her with your exaggerations." Aileen scolds in a tone that's almost motherly. "She needs to understand, not be frightened with you making it one of your stories."

"I promise to present only facts. After all, I'm the eldest. It should be my responsibility to do these things." A Cheshire Cat grin spreads across his face while the others collectively sigh and groan. "What Sophie meant is that we're all _much_ older than we appear. For example, while I may be perpetually trapped at sixteen just like when I was changed, time has marched on. People have gotten older, and places have changed a lot since eighteen seventy—six, I believe."

My world spins at the words, and I clutch at the armrests of my chair in an effort to keep from tumbling out of it. "Monty, why must you _always_ be so dramatic?" Sophie sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose in frustration.

Monty just laughs and shakes his head, which sends his blonde curls right across his forehead. "I can't help it. It's a natural talent that even the Madame couldn't take away form me. I don't get why you're complaining. At least, now she knows."

Ben just offers me an apologetic smile. "Okay, that's enough. The point is while we don't understand everything about being a Siren. One thing we've learned is that from the moment of our transition, we stop aging.

"Aside from that, there are a few things you should know—even if you decide not to stay with us." His words weigh heavily as they ring in the air. "We can tell you everything we know—as little as it may seem—but there are some things that we discovered are unique to each of us."

At this, Aileen, who seems to have taken a liking to me, continues in her soft, motherly tone. "We each have something that was given to us in return for what was taken, and if not understood or controlled it can be quite dangerous."

"Dangerous how?" Theta questions, and I don't need to look at her to know the fear, concern, and pain she must be feeling for and towards me.

The room stays quiet. It makes the few seconds stretch on into the same eternity I endured in that cellar with Tommy. Except this time, the air is charged as if no one is willing to speak first.

The siblings all look at each other as they carry on a silent conversation amongst themselves. I have a dreadful feeling that it's about me and how to not cause Theta and I any more alarm.

It's Connor that speaks up for the first time since he introduced himself. "It's part of the lore surrounding the original sirens that still rings true. Each one of us has something that can draw people in, make them see their greatest desires and weakness, and—how to explain it—cleanse them."

I immediately look to Ben for further clarification. "Everyone has a balance of light against dark in their souls." He begins, clearly doing his best to find the right words. "Some people have a balance toward one or the other from what we've learned. We think it affects everyone differently and shifts based upon that person's actions.

"In our experience, it changes on each individual, but we can help _restore_ the balance in a soul. If someone has too much of the negative, they tend to be drawn to us like moths to fire. None of us are quite clear on what happens, but—" His voice falters, whether from emotion or lack of how to continue, I'm not sure.

Sophie stands up and places a hand on his shoulder while she continues in his place, "—but these people are changed after the encounter. It's as if their guilt, desires for destruction, and darkness is lost. The soul shines through their skin with a new balance on the scales."

"You're neglecting to mention the important part." Monty interrupts and moves to grab a glass. His voice remains level with each word as he pours himself a drink. "Not everyone is so lucky as to survive the encounter."

Ben seems to notice the fear reflecting in my eyes and rushes to alleviate it. "We do everything we can to prevent it, but there's no clear way to do so. The people with the greatest needs are drawn to us, but we have little way to stop it. I regret to admit that some do not make it. It appears that they are just not strong enough."

There's another stretch of tense silence that blankets the room. Except, no one dares to look at another this time, and it's Theta who finally breaks it. "You say this will happen no matter what?"

Most of the siblings nod in bleak confirmation. "There is good news though." Aileen adds and gives my hand a gentle squeeze. "It's another thing that we all were told by the various Madame Vitario's. There's something or someone out there can do something similar for us. If we can find it, there's a chance for us to be whole again."

My free hand moves to my throat, which she nods in confirmation to my silent question. I let it linger there, fingers brushing against my pearls as I wonder what it would be like to have my voice back.

"A chance, but it's still something." Sofia lets out a heavy sigh, "I could finally have someone love me back."

"And I could find home." Monty adds with a raised glass.

"Maybe we could even find some quiet again." Aileen whispers with a sigh and smiles sadly at her twin. Everyone goes silent after that as we each have a moment of dreaming what life could be like again.

"Can I talk to Birdy alone for a moment?" Theta questions before leading me out into the hallway, where she proceeds to pace. I cross my arms over myself as I wait for her inevitable argument on how crazy this all is and how we should leave.

Except, it never comes, and what she actually says shocks me more than anything else that's happened today. "I think you should go with them." She whispers as tears brim in her eyes. "It's up to you, of course, but I think it's what you need to do."

Hot tears build in my own eyes as she pulls me into a tight hug. "I know you can't talk, but please, just listen for a moment. As terrifying as this all is, those people in there seem to know how to help you and can understand what happened, which is a lot more than I can do.

"I want you to know that no matter what you choose, you have my full support." She pulls away and smiles at me with watery eyes. "No matter what, I'm always _gonna_ be here for you."

I nod, fairly certain in the decision I'm about to make as I drag her along back to the room with my fellow Sirens. They all turn to me with curious gazes, and I squeeze's Theta's hand with a nod. "Are you sure?" She questions, but we both know that there's no true alternative. "She says that she would like to come with you if you'll have her."

Ben steps toward me with a smile. "We wouldn't turn you away. Welcome to the family, Elinor." He pulls me into a gentle hug, and I do my best to not collapse in the happiness of this moment.

Everyone quickly joins in on the warm welcomes—even Monty, who gives me a gentle nudge and grin. It brings a comfort that's been absent since Tommy, and I relish every moment. Because it's nice to be a part of something like this—to be understood and loved—to be a part of a family.


	8. Chapter 8

_Present Day — New York City_

I lean forward on my elbows with a heavy sigh. It's strange being back here after decades of avoiding and trying to forget it and the life I had here. So much happened in this town that I've tried to let go of—the life I had, the transformation, Tommy's death, and my own personal dark age. Even if it means being close to Aileen and Connor after so long, I'm struggling to find the silver lining.

The memories of back then send a chill tracing over my skin, and I brush it off quickly before I tumble back down that rabbit hole. I merely hope that this will be the fresh start we keep telling ourselves each move will be. It's hard to believe it though; the past always finds a way to rear its head again.

I lift the lid off the shoebox of memories, each one capturing a moment from my decades of life and adventures. There are faces of the many people I have known and cared for before. I look over each one carefully, flipping through the decades of false Hope and lost siblings.

One photograph makes my heart ache. It was from before I became what I am today. Tommy has an arm wrapped around the young, naive me as we both smile happily at the camera. Our faces were slightly distorted from our laughter, but it makes me sad that I can't quite remember what about. Nor can I remember the sound of his voice or how his hair would look in the light.

I place the photograph back in the box and hastily wipe away the tears. Sometimes I have to remind myself that I'm longer who I was back then. Elinor Carter died a long time ago. 

Now, I'm Ellie Chase, a sixteen year old who is just now moving to New York City with her siblings. I get to go to a new school and attempt to make new friends. It's another chance to follow the tug in my chest that's been there for months now.

Emma, one of our newer siblings and my best friend aside from Ben, keeps lecturing me about following it. She does her best to understand, but she wasn't there for my dark age. Her transition was more docile and recent. The bitterness and pain of our plight has yet to settle, and I dread the day it does. I always fear the inevitable day it happens to each of us.

"Hey, El." Ben whispers as he knocks on the doorframe. His eyes take in the shoebox in my hand, and when the realization hits, the sadness and pain that he shows when I'm sad floods his features. "You've really gotta stop doing this to yourself."

I look up at him and close the lid with a heavy sigh. "It's not that easy for me. You know that." My fingers and hands forming the words that my mouth haven't been able to for so long. "I just—I don't want to forget."

"You always say that, but you'll never say why." He shakes his head and leans against the doorway. "Trust me, I have a good feeling about this time, Ellie bean. After all, we haven't hit any trouble, and all four of us are being drawn here. It has to mean something."

I roll my eyes at Ben using the nickname that Graham gave me when he joined the family, but the more he speaks, the worse I feel. All my siblings want to be here—are drawn here by whatever supernatural forces dictate us. Each of us are likely to find our Hope here if we're lucky. "I suppose so." I tell him with a forced smile.

"Hey, chin up. Your Hope is still out there waiting for you." He smiles and nudges my shoulder as he motions to the doorway. "So is dinner and everyone else."

"As long as Graham didn't cook it, I'm coming." The comment makes Ben burst with his usual boisterous laugh. "But then again, I didn't hear any smoke alarms. So I'm gonna assume we're safe."

Ben just shakes his head as we make our way to the living room, where Emma and Graham are already on the floor with their paper cartons of takeout. "You better not be making fun of me again, Ellie bean." Graham jokingly scolds, his dark eyes alight with humor.

"I make no promises." I tell him and take my place on the floor.

"Sometimes you're so mean to me." Graham whispers as he juts out his bottom lip. Everyone chuckles at the expression, and he wraps an arm over my shoulder to tug me into his chest. "You're lucky I still love you, baby sis. Otherwise I'd don't know if I could handle all your torment."

"So, how was everyone's day?" Emma signs when she notices no one else speaking. "And remember to enunciate, please. You boys tend to mumble, which always makes it harder to read your lips."

"It's true." I add with a smile. "You both mumble so much it's hard for even me to understand."

Ben and Graham both shake their heads at us but oblige nevertheless. It's another calm night of us chatting about our days, which mostly was unpacking and job interviews. I listen quietly to the conversation, but my mind keeps drifting.

It follows an odd stream of thought through the years, and I soon find myself again recalling the fuzzy details of my previous life here in New York. There was so much that happened after I became part of the family. I have so much I wish I could forget or undo, words I could take back, and people I could help instead of hurt.

There's a tap on my shoulder that finally pulls me out of my thoughts, and I look up to find the food cleared with Emma watching me with wide eyes. "Where were you?" She asks with delicate fingers and a sad smile.

"Here, but the first time around." I sigh and push myself off the floor. "Would you—maybe—help me do something without telling the guys?"

"You know I would—as long as it's not dangerous." Her green eyes shining happily as she think of the prospect of helping others or finding adventures. "What do you need help?"

I let out a heavy sigh and bite my lip. This could easily be the best or worst thing for me to do, but something in my chest is tugging me to do it. "I need someone to go with me. I want to—to visit some old friends."

"I thought you hadn't been back here since—" She stops when she realizes what I mean, her mouth forming a perfect 'o.' It takes her a moment to think it over before a soft smile takes over her. "Okay. We can go in the morning?"

"Thank you." I pull her into a tight hug and find myself so thankful for my 'big sister' as everyone calls her.

She lets out a light laugh as she pulls away. "Hey, it's what family is for, and if you think it's something you need to do, I'm all in."

"It's been over ninety years; I think it's time. Maybe we are here for a reason, and mine is to start to heal." I tell her with shaking hands and a soft sigh. Emma smiles at the comment and squeezes my hand in agreement and encouragement.

"Well, I'm proud of you either way." She replies and drags me to my feet with her. "But if we're gonna do it, you're gonna need your rest."

I nod and trail behind her as we both head to our shared room in our small apartment. A chill traces up my spine as my bare feet pad across the hardwood floor. Emma taps on my shoulder with a soft smile, "You should know, Ellie, this is a big step forward. I'm really proud of you for doing it."

"Thank you, Em." I tell her with a half forced smile. "I'm just gonna go ahead and turn in early tonight. It's probably going to be a long day tomorrow."

I tuck myself underneath the thick blankets and try to tell myself this is what I need. It's been ninety four year after all. I have to face the fact at some point if we're going to be here indefinitely.

Maybe if I open up a few old wound they'll finally start healing properly. Maybe then I'll find myself able to search for my Hope instead of cleansing souls. Maybe I can finally get a piece of myself back.


	9. Chapter 9

It's colder than I thought it would be. I tug my sweater around myself even more to hide myself from the breeze. Emma seems to notice and grabs my trembling hand in support. "You okay?" She questions with gentle gestures.

I nod and continue on. My focus locks on my feet as they crush dried leaves beneath them. Tombstones pass by as I lead us to the people who meant so much to me. This will be my first time visiting them here, but I still know where to go.

Theta used to write letters all the time about her life as time went by. She told me everything about her life, even if she knew I could rarely reply. It was like a sliver of a normal life amidst the supernatural chaos of running, searching, and cleansing. I remember almost everything she wrote to me, even where she was going to be buried as she got close to the end.

The large stone seems to stand out against the sea of monuments. It's like a magnet in my chest telling me where to go. I don't even think about it as I stop and kneel down in the damp grass. The dew soaks through my jeans and dampens my fingertips as I trace the outlines of the names. Theta Anders Lancer and Oliver Martin Lancer. 

"I still can't believe she married Ollie." I softly tell Emma. "They always seemed close, but it was still a surprise when she told me about it. She told me Ollie picked the club back up a few years after everything happened; it was his life. Just like performing was hers. Five years later, they got married and started a whole new life together." My hands drop as I meekly sign, "I just wish that could have been me too—with Tommy."

Emma rests a hand on my shoulder. "It will be you one day. We're all going to get that one day." Her green eyes shine with that glimmer of reckless hope that I lost long ago—or maybe never had in the first place. It almost hurts to see it in her and know how long she may have to wait or that it may drain from her over time. "Did you wanna say anything to her?"

I nod and press my palm against the cold stone. The words don't need to be spoken or signed. I'm sure she would know everything I plan to say, but she would still let me speak for my own peace.

"Hey, Theta—and Ollie. I'm sorry I never got to be there for everything, but like you told me, leaving was something I needed to do. Things are different now, but in a way, they're better. I have a family—a proper one, and a new way of singing. It's not the same, but it's something. You would be so proud of me, Theta."

I sigh and bite my lip as I continue. "That's not why I came though. I came to say goodbye. You were always such a huge part of my life, but I think it's time to let other people in—to start trying to make a real life over again. I'll always miss you, dear friends."

Emma takes my hand and squeezes it tightly. "I'm really proud of you, Ellie. Is there anyone else you wanted to visit?"

"Not today." I tell her. My stomach is already churning with nausea at the small interaction with my old life. "I think that's enough for a while. Right now, I just wanna go home."

We walk back to the apartment in a somber silence. It's almost peaceful despite the lingering emotions. There's an eerie calm around us, and I relish in every second of it. Except, it falters when I glance up and read an all too familiar name—Henry Carter.

I stop dead in my tracks as I stare at his gravestone—Pop's gravestone.

Emma looks back to me as I fall to the ground with teary eyes. "Henry Carter, beloved husband and father." It's the first time we'll have been this close since a few days before I joined the Sirens. Theta told me he passed a while after that, but according to the date, he died about three months after that.

I never knew that. All I had known was that he handed down his shares in the company to me after he passed, which practically made me an heiress with so much money that I was able to take care for and hide the Sirens even now. A grand fortune and a letter with an apology for everything that happened.

My fingers shake as I tentatively reach out to trace the dates of his life. I don't have a speech for this encounter—because I never expected for it to happen. It's been over ninety years, and I still feel like the small, scared girl I was when he talked to himself in the middle of the night.

It feels like Madame Vitario destroying me all over again. There was so much that we never got to talk about. He spent every day after that night trying to apologize and make it up to me. Even when he passed, there was a long letter that he wrote with one last attempt to explain his remorse for his actions.

I can only think of one thing that I could ever say to him that needs to be said. My lips mouth the words with no sound, but it's enough. "I forgive you."

I push myself up to my feet and wipe the tears away as we leave the cemetery without any hesitation.

In a way, the weight on my shoulders doesn't feel as strong as before, but there's still so much more I have to deal with. I keep my eyes focused on the pavement as it passes by beneath my feet. Perhaps saying what I've came to fifty years ago to my Pop's gravestone was better than just saying goodbye to my old friends.

Of course, there's one other person I'm still holding onto, but that particular bit of healing is something I'm not going to be ready for anytime soon.

For now, I focus on the tug in my chest, which feels so much stronger with the lessened haze of my past. It's a strange feeling, like a beehive just behind my sternum and helium in my bones lifting me up.

Perhaps this is better than what I had planned. Maybe letting go of the pain and anger I held against my dad is exactly what I needed. Just the simple, unspoken apology lessens the tight grip of pain and remorse around my heart to the point where I feel like I can breathe again.

Emma seems to notice the change, and she offers me a proud, beaming smile as we walk back to the apartment. "I'm really proud of you. I can only imagine how hard that must have been." Her eyes perk up as she spots something ahead of us. "In fact, how about we go celebrate?"

"Thank you, and I won't turn down a chance for time with my sister." I tell her and loop our arms together. A smile tugs at the corners of my lips as we walk along, but it fades as the tugging in my chest feels like my heart is about to be drawn through my sternum.

I untangle my arm from Emma's and look around to see if I can find any reason for the change. My eyes search every face, every inch of my surroundings in the hopes of having the slightest extra tug. Except, the longer I focus, the more I realize it's a compass.

My feet move on their own accord, completely under the impulse of something I don't understand. All I know is that it's important, it's bright and shimmering in a way that makes my head dizzy with glee. I can hear Emma following me, but I can't slow down, not just yet.

Then, as suddenly as it came, it fades.

It takes me a moment to process what just happened, but when the haze fades, all I'm left with is confusion and a chattering café. "What just happened?" Emma questions as she struggles for breath.

"I think—I think I'm gonna get a job here," I tell her as I point to a sign posted in the window. "Something drew me here, and I think I'm gonna follow it."

She nods absentmindedly as we walk inside. The smell of coffee and fresh baked pastries fill my nose. I let out a heavy breath. A wave of nostalgia rushes over me, but its origins are unclear. All I can think of is that it feels as comforting as I remember the Starlight to be, which only confirms my suspicions. I need to be here.

I walk up to the counter with my phone in hand, ready to communicate without sign language. The boy behind smiles up at me, which I easily return. "Hi, I'd to apply for a position here."

His smile falters at the robotic voice that echoes from my phone speakers, but like most people, he's quick to cover with a wider smile and an extra peppy voice. "Sure thing, let me just go get a manager for an application form."

My heart slows down as I smile at the little café. At least if I'm wrong about this, I'll have a nice place to be and have a slice of normality. But something deep inside me says that I'm meant to be here right now.

For the first time, I feel one step closer to that glimmer of Hope.

A/N: updates will be slightly delayed while I head back and settle into college again! (Don't worry, it won't be very long, but I thought I'd give a heads up just in case it's late.)


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